


Nightcap

by deedeeinfj



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4236288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeeinfj/pseuds/deedeeinfj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene/what-if between a wedding and an airplane. 3x08 spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightcap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katinka31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katinka31/gifts).



His gaze is still on her when she looks down from the stars and turns to him.

"I didn't have to be a telescope to see _that_ ," she says, her lips curving up sweetly in that way that both delights and intoxicates him.

He smiles. His earlier "romantic overture" had been a quip, really, until she had given him the opening to make it something more.

"Miss Williams was a lovely bride," he observes.

She nods and pauses. "Nightcap, Jack? I have an early morning, but I would consider a late night with you time well spent." Her meaning is perfectly clear, her eyes bright.

"I want you to sleep," he says. He reaches up to finger the delicate gold strands of her headpiece. "A nightcap might make it impossible for me to let you go."

He has spent the evening actively forcing his mind not to dwell on the thought of her crossing land and sea in an aeroplane... on the very real possibility that she might never return to him.

Her eyes close briefly as his fingers wander from the gold links into the black silk of her hair. "Only a nightcap, then," she counters. "Strength for the journey. Liquid courage."

"As if you are lacking in courage or strength, Miss Fisher."

"My knees are unusually weak at the moment," she breathes.

He takes a step closer. "Phryne..."

"Darling Jack." She reaches for his hand and clasps it tightly. There were times when he wouldn't have dared to hope for the look of affection - he cannot yet bring himself to imagine that it could be more - that he now sees on her face. All for him. "Be with me tonight," she says. Lifting their joined hands to her lips, she adds, "I want you."

When the words are there between them, so real in having been spoken, refusing her is not an option. Self-preservation be damned. If Phryne Fisher is to be the thing that breaks him, he is more than willing.

"You know that I want you more than anything," he says, and his voice sounds almost as raw as his admission. "Need you more than anything."

Neither of them speaks as they go to her house, which is dark and quiet with the new Mrs. Collins gone and the elder Fisher either out still or in his bed. There are no words when he follows her inside, and not when they ascend the stairs. But in the safety of her room with its dim light and locked door, they enter a confessional where sin and penance have no place.

Where clothing has no place.

Phryne loosens his tie, slides it out, and tosses it aside before she sets to work on his buttons. "I have wanted to unbutton you for ages, Jack." She pulls the shirt up and out of his waistband. "It's really rather scandalous, you know."

He has to kiss her then - to savor what he had only been able to taste once, too briefly. He cradles her precious, round face in both hands as he kisses each lip, rubs his nose against hers, and finally seals their mouths together. It's impossible to tell which of them is more desperate.

"Phryne," he exhales when they part for breath.

"You see now how wantonly I want you," she smiles, her light eyes dark for him. "And you've made me wait so very long."

"I could say the same of you."

"Undress me, Jack."

He doesn't need to be told twice. Every new span of porcelain skin demands his mouth, and he explores her with lips, tongue, and teeth. Her neck has always been his favorite part of her, and he shows her until her body is sagging back against him, her head on his shoulder, one arm draped around his own neck.

When she lies back on the bed, she is naked and breathless and much more than his dreams (and that cursed painting) could have led him to believe.

"I have to undress both of us?" he says, making quick work of the rest of his clothes as his eyes wander over her body.

"Mmmm," she replies as one slender hand slides down between her breasts. "I enjoy watching you. And," she adds, sitting up, "I suppose I should take care of business."

He pauses to watch with interest as she removes her "internal device" from its box and spreads her legs. _Christ..._

"It isn't painful?" he can't help asking.

"It can be, depending on the circumstances. Not tonight, though." She smiles up at him. "Some men prefer to look away."

"No, I want to see." When she finishes, he slides a hand up her thigh, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. "Will you show me how to do it? Another time... if there is another time..."

"There will be many other times, my doubting Thomas. And is that something you really want to do?"

"If it's part of making love to you, yes."

Her eyes are soft. "Finish undressing, Jack. I want to feel you against me, and I'm so tired of waiting."

He makes hasty work of his remaining garments, undergarments, and shoes, then slides his body up along hers, his groan meeting hers in the best kind of harmony.

“Oh,” she sighs as she hooks her arms to hold on to his shoulders and slides a foot over his calf. Arching up, she presses her breasts to his chest. “At last, at last.”

His forehead falls to hers, and her features are blurry in their closeness. “I know.” He strokes her hair back from her temple with his fingertips.

“Please touch me. Kiss me everywhere, Jack.”

Chuckling, he captures her bottom lip in his teeth, tugs it a little, and says, “With pleasure.” Her breasts are just as perfect as he remembered, he thinks as he teases each one in turn. “Exquisite,” he murmurs. “All of you… exquisite.”

He kisses his way down to her navel and then across her hip bones. As he ventures lower, Phryne makes soft whimpering noises that nearly undo him.

“Please,” she begs, lifting her hips in offering. “Please, Jack.”

After tracing her softness with one finger, he follows the path with his tongue and stops to caress the pearl where her pleasure is concentrated. He can feel and taste her desire for him – her body proclaims it to all his senses – yet he still finds it hard to believe that they are here. He slides a finger inside her, exploring, and she gives a choked cry.

“Is this what you like?” he asks, pausing. “Can it be better?”

“Keep going. Exactly what you’re doing.”

He smiles and obeys. When she reaches her climax, she cries out his name, and it is the most beautiful thing he has ever heard… that is until she adds on a blissful sigh, “Oh, my darling.”

Her hands reach for him, and she rolls them over so that she straddles his hips. His body is very near its limit, and the sight of her over him, kissing and licking her way across his stomach and chest, is almost too much.

“Phryne, I can’t… I want to be inside you. Please.”

“That’s just where I want you,” she says tenderly, leaning to give him a gentle kiss. She positions their bodies, and then he is inside her, and it is paradise.

He uses his arms to push himself up so he can hold her close, kissing her until they are both too distracted to do anything more than pant against each other’s lips.

“This won’t be what you deserve,” he says between ragged breaths. “It’s been too long, and it’s… you. I’m sorry.”

She stops her movements, and he groans. “Don’t you dare apologize, Jack Robinson. You are perfect.” When she resumes rolling her hips against his, she adds, “This is perfect.” She leans closer to tease his earlobe with her tongue, then draws it between her lips. “I want you to let go,” she whispers. “I want to watch you.”

So he does, tightening his arms around her and letting her see his face as the pleasure washes over him. His head falls to her shoulder, and he feels her fingers stroking his hair and his back. “Phryne… Phryne…” He doesn’t know what more he can say.

They move gradually from holding each other and kissing to lying down, tangled together.

“You’ll wait for me, Jack?” she asks, drawing patterns on his chest with her fingertips.

“For a few weeks, perhaps.”

“Beastly man.”

“Silly question.”

“Mmmm,” she agrees.

“It might be good,” he muses. “The time apart. Especially for you.”

She props herself up on her elbow and narrows her eyes at him. “Now who’s being silly?”

“Enjoy the freedom. That’s all I mean. No one coming after you.”

They are quiet after that, and Jack doesn’t know who falls asleep first. But when he opens his eyes in the morning, she is gone, and there is a note: "Couldn't say goodbye. Never goodbye, Jack." 

He runs to his car.


End file.
